Wishful Thinking
by InfamousAndAnonymous
Summary: Set after Clockwork Princess and COLS, Tessa, Jem and Will are hurtled into the future by the very clockwork creatures they defeated at the cost of their loved ones' lives. When they chance upon the TMI crew both groups are in for a ride as they fight against something none of them have faced and fate gives some of the characters an unexpected choice in life and who they love.
1. Chapter 1

**Note from the author: Not everything I write will be perfect, and certain parts will certainly not be liked by all. But hey, I'm new to this so give me a shot!**

**Before setting out I should state a few things. For one, this happens between City of Lost Souls and City of Heavenly Fire in Mortal Instruments terms and as for the Infernal Devices side of things, this is after Clockwork Princess (the last one) however holds a few differences. Jem is still Jem, not a Silent Brother and is still betrothed to Tessa Gray. The clockwork machines are defeated, however, at a great cost to Tessa, Will and Jem as everyone they have come to love (Sophie, Gideon, Charlotte, Henry) has perished in the end. Things are about to become even more complicated when the three are thrown into the future only to meet the TMI gang and a whole new set of problems for both groups.**

**Thank you and please review! :)**

**Note: Characters, places, and a hell of a lot of weird things are courtesy of Cassandra Claire and I have no claim over it, unlike this plot.**

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CHAPTER 1: TICK TOCK

She stared at him as if he was too delicate to touch and as if she were his protector, a thought which made her snort in a way that was most unladylike. She ran a finger through his hair shyly, blushing in mortification at the chance of getting caught doing such a thing. Her hand paused as she sternly told herself she should not feel such guilt, that it had no place in her heart which she had so solemnly sworn to him. Reassured by her conscience, she recommenced her pensive and dreamy movements, stroking his hair while she watched him doze away. She smiled. He looked so healthy as he slept this night, she thought. His silver hair framed his face in a way that made his sleep laden face look almost impish and frightfully alive in a way that escaped him in his temperate waking hours.

A knock on the door stirred her from her reminiscence and she swivelled in her chair, ready to tell Sophie that she did not need anything and that she wouldn't go to bed, not with Jem in this state—but all of it was cut short when the door opened and Will walked in, his appearance crushing her hope that Sophie could be alive at all. His face scanned hers as regret and loss clouded his eyes and he walked to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder with great hesitation, whilst staring calmly at his parabatai's sleeping form. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, knowing it would be improper to stare at him directly. Wouldn't it? She almost let the sigh escape as she cursed herself for overthinking things but choked it down as she saw a corner of Will's mouth tip up. Oh no, she certainly shouldn't be staring at his mouth, she scolded herself before reasoning that of course she would look at his mouth if he were smiling—she could hardly look at his ears when his mouth was the thing demanding her attention!

"Why are you smiling?" She breathed out finally.

He looked at her almost surprised that she had noticed him smile, but then shrugged and said, "I was just thinking about the first time I took Jem to a pub. It's a charming story, really."

He was practically begging her to ask him about it. She sighed in concession.

"I never mistook you for one to pass up the chance to tell a story involving yourself"

He smirked at that.

"It was a mild evening midsummer and we had just fought with our first set of demons as parabatai. The cause of celebration one might say!" Will launched into the story with a theatrical flair, as a five year old might have spoken of dragons or a giant dog to a close confidant.

"…It was in the wee hours of the morning when we stumbled upon the great ramshackle building and there were not very many respectable gentry prowling through the inn as we took our seats, bragging about our exploit earlier that night when a great, giant, ugly, hairy and greatly barbaric troll of a cre—"

"It was only you bragging, Will" interrupted Jem, his eyes half open as he let a smile play across his lips. His eyes met Tessa's which were wide with curiosity but still soft with affection for him.

"Go on," whispered Jem as he sat up wincing, waving away help from Will. He took a hold of Tessa's hand and directed a patient smile at Will who, with great ado, continued with his tale, "And there on the counter, instead of our chilled beverages stood a tremendous, horrific, ghastly spawn of the devil himself!"

"Oh you can hardly say that, Will. It was only a duck!" reasoned Jem, his expression solemn though his lips quivered in the attempt to smother his laughter. Tessa, on the other hand, made no such effort as her laughter bubbled. It was futile for Jem. His efforts went to a waste as his masculine laughter burst forth to join hers.

"So perhaps the Great William Herondale does not associate himself with ducks, but is that truly a flaw? No! Never trust a duck!" proclaimed Will.

Tessa rolled her eyes and Will shrugged as Jem smiled at the memory of a very drunken Will challenging a fluffy duck to a duel the very night he had slain three demons with one slash of a blade. The irony was not lost on him.

As the laughter died down Tessa turned to look at Jem, whose face was bright with love and laughter as the moonlight caressed his silver hair. She smiled back at him thinking of how she would love to spend the rest of her life with him until a dark thought brushed her smile away. Was there even a chance? His eyes shone bright but was that only because of the joy in the room—how much of it was the Yin Fen? He looked at her, his eyes now lined with concern as he touched her wrist. And she could feel their time ticking away. The next click always more insistent than the previous. The ticking so loud now that all three of them looked up when three great metal structures drifted into the room.

"Impossible…" Will began, startled at the sight of sleeker versions of the same clockwork creatures they had put an end to. The same creatures they had lost so much to. He gritted his teeth and stood in a protective stance on Tessa's right knowing that Jem had already taken up the left side so they flanked her. She looked stricken, paralysed by fear.

Will gave the three clockwork monstrosities an arrogant smile, which he had perfected many a battle ago, then asked with venom thick in his voice and just the right intonation to sound patronising, "What do you want little creatures? If it is death, you have surely come to the right place…"

"We cannot die," chuckled one of the creatures, mimicking the sound of grinding metal. The three abominations paced forward, screeching in unison—

"TICK. TOCK. Your time is up!"

Three metal fists shot out at Jem, Tessa and Will as their world turned black and spun around them and a hypnotic thumping pounded into their ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, so we're onto chapter 2 and I haven't been chased by mobs of angry TMI and TID fans…yet. In fact, you guys are really encouraging and a major shout out to Silver Carstairs (my first reviewer- woot woot!)**

**To Silver Carstairs (and the whole lot of you nosey eavesdroppers): Yes, it is my first FF and I haven't really done them before but thank you. Your review was extremely encouraging, especially since I love your Hunger Games crossover. Now onto the tough questions… 1) MALEC: I go with the break that happened at the end of CoLS but where there is a Will there is a way (no more hints teehee). 2) Do I ship Jessa? And does Will have feelings for Tessa? Well, I am not biased toward either though I will admit my fury (SPOILERS!) at the end of Clockwork Princess where everything fit just so. Screw Disney for giving the option of having the best of both worlds (excuse my French and my sadistic nature). But yes, Will has feelings for Tessa… things are going to get very interesting, I promise. 3) Am I Cassandra Claire? Ah, I can only dream.**

**To Angel Gidget: Thanks :) There will definitely be grief though they cannot shirk their duties and they will be brought into a whole lot of problems along with the TID group. **

**Recap on previous chapter's note: Set between CoLS and CoHF and after Clockwork Princess—all your beloved TID characters like Charlotte, Henry, Gideon and Sophie are dead (the price of defeating the clockwork creatures)… though they don't really seem very defeated if you ask me.**

**Thank you for your tremendous patience, excuse the long note and read on! **

**Please review! (I just love it)**

…**.Still do not own the characters or most of the places, it's all Cassandra Claire's—besides the plot.**

Chapter 2: NOTHING REALLY CHANGES

Clary peered at Simon over Jace's shoulder while the Bouncer looked them over. She laughed to herself as she watched Simon shift uncomfortably from one foot to another. Nothing really changes, she noted as she raked her eyes over him. Sure he had classier clothes and the whole vampire business had given his features an almost regal air but in the end she saw the same boy who had been roped into taking her to Pandemonium for her last birthday. And he was antsy. She cleared her throat, attracting his attention and tilted her head slightly in a question to which he shrugged and turned to talk to Izzy who was, of course, ignoring him studiously.

The rope was lifted and their morose group was ushered in, the music intensifying from the constant thrum felt outside to an encompassing and reverberating frenzy penetrating their souls. The five of them felt it in a way that was usually alien to them, or at least to four of them. They felt it jarring them, setting their teeth on edge, and clawing their bones as if the music itself was a demon they had come to hunt—its demanding presence confining them. Simon glanced at the four others who all bore grimaces on their faces and understood that they finally saw the place the way he did, even before he became a 'parasite'.

He hated the blaring music, the piercing lights, the frantic dancing, but most of all he hated the smell of the sweating bodies all writhing with pores reeking of alcohol and future regrets coupled with the bitter stench of vomit issuing from the far side of the room. And being a vampire amplified it. Someone passed out on the dance floor to be dragged off by three less than sober friends who staggered around clumsily even without the added weight and Simon groaned, shifting his attention back to the group of Shadowhunters he had come with—after all, Clary was one of them too, he concluded only half-heartedly suppressing his dejection at losing his closest friend. Because that's all she could have ever been to you, whispered a voice inside his head as his eyes were drawn to her slender hand encased in Jace's. He lifted his eyes off of her, wanting to kick himself for being so weak and eyed Isabelle sheepishly, guilt plaguing him for letting his mind stray to the very desires she had rejected him for having. Her words from earlier echoed in his head—_Choose. The love you could have or the one you can only wish for._ Her eyes wouldn't meet his.

"Don't look so sullen, Cullen," came Jace's voice as he snickered at how a Night's child could look so at odds with the night life. Simon frowned at him and glanced at Clary, who smiled back reassuringly, her hand still in Jace's. He snapped.

"I don't know why you think you're so hot, Jace. It's just the Angel Fire coursing through you."

"Ooh! Burn…"chuckled Alec, commending himself on his choice of words before reverting to his former melancholic self after noticing a flamboyantly dressed man in the distance. A painful reminder of what was lost to him.

"Looks like the Vampire's got bite today. Someone alert the fiction novelists—their retorts suck more than they do" replied Jace, his eyes alive with the fight.

"Enough," barked Isabelle, directing their attention to the four who Simon had seen stumble off the dance floor, "We have company."

The five of them eyed the four demons with varying emotions, all of them unwilling to admit that they were only doing this to distract themselves from the threat that Sebastian held, all needing some kind of victory to assure themselves that they may just live beyond a week. Then, each with a newfound sense of determination set off, taking on their respectful roles and following choreography they had all but perfected the previous night. They shadowed the demons to a dark corner of an adjoining room and all hell broke loose. Jace and Alec stepped out to the four demons, seraph blades glinting angrily, followed by Isabelle with her whip curled dangerously, Clary with grim determination painted on her face, and Simon with a toothy grimace on his. The demons shed their human form, nails turning to claws and hair shrivelling to flame as their faces elongated until they were scaly crimson monstrosities with poison dripping off their razor teeth. Three of them shuffled forward cackling manically at the meal laid before them.

Jace sprung forward to meet one in the air as the music coming from the other room shook the floor, his seraph blade flashed as it shot out only to be blocked by claws. Repeatedly, the claws deflected his blows as he lost ground, the irregular clatter of weapons clashing with the thumping of the music. And the demon continued to cackle as Jace's back met the wall, his slashes becoming more desperate and less fluid until the demon's toxic breath burned upon his skin and its laughter vibrated in his head in a way that would surely haunt his dreams.

"Weak child…You have no chance. There is no hope for you… History will always repeat itself," cackled the demon, as it blocked his blow once more as if brushing a leaf off itself—not giving it a second glance. And it smiled before spitting, "The ones you love will die too!"

Its claws reached out to his throat, intending to strangle it or break it he did not know. Nor did he want to. Grunting, he put all his remaining energy into a final and killing slash at its chest as black ichor spilled from the demon's wound and it crumpled in upon itself before vanishing completely.

"It's a good thing you only love yourself then," joked Isabelle, smiling weakly at him as the second demon fell between her and Alec. He returned her smile as he watched Clary and Simon put down the third between them and he scanned the room for the fourth demon to no avail. The four others, bloodied and battered joined the futile search. They had raked every inch of the room when the sound of glass shattering drew their attention. They rushed down the hall on their right, followed by the pounding music, and ended up in a room which was usually used for private functions. The grand hall was strewn with broken glass and the curtains were tattered to shreds, but that was not what drew Clary's attention. There, in the centre, lay a slender figure broken and silver, with a brunette girl kneeling close by, urging him to awaken, a blur of black and blue defended them from the fourth and final demon. The demon's breath misted over the boy as he fought it wildly away from the two on the floor.

"Don't expect to gain any affection with that breath," intoned the taunting voice of the boy, a British accent lilting his words which Clary made a mental note of. Still, it was clear the boy was losing as his graceful movements became stiff and he spent more time defending rather than attacking. A blade soared through the air, leaving Alec's hand, and plunged into the demon's back. It collapsed, fading away, its shrill cackle echoing against the walls, and the boy with dark hair let out a ragged breath. He looked up at the five of them and offered Alec a grateful smile before bowing smoothly. Clary and Jace exchanged looks of confusion as an articulate voice met them.

"William Herondale, at your service. May I introduce my companions, Theresa Gray and James Carstairs," he said with a pleasant smile drawn upon his face as he rose. Then his smile dropped and a dangerous look emerged in his eyes, "Who are you and why have you brought us here?"

**Whew! So that was Chapter 2, review to tell me what you think. Even criticism's welcome **

**Hope you guys enjoyed that. I know it wasn't that good but I think next chapter will be better. Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again, sorry for the LAAAAAAAAATE instalment of the third chapter. I kind of got taken in by all my homework, exams, projects, labs, and presentations….you know the drill. Still, this chapter's longer than the usual and I hope you forgive me.**

**Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites. I feel so special :D So pleaaaaase review. I can't get enough of it.**

**Disclaimer: I did wish to become Cassandra Claire. It did not work out (and possibly never will as I have just shared the wish). The end of the story is that I am not her so do not own the character or the places... blah blah blah**

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Chapter 3: A NEW GENERATION

The silence was palpable and Alec's mind raced over all the possible outcomes. He glared at his hands accusingly—reluctant to let his eyes meet the identical pair belonging to the man he had just saved. And for a moment, just a single breath-taking and earth-shatteringly guilty moment, he clenched his fists and imagined the daggers had never left their battle-worn grasp, had never plunged into the demon and had never saved William Herondale, the lost love of his very own lost love. He imagined William Herondale's lifeless body with immovable lips, unable to utter his own name, and with black eyelashes brushing sharp cheekbones in a state of eternal sleep where he didn't have the power to hurt anyone. Alec swallowed his pain and slowly let go of the breath he had held in, realising that it didn't matter. Someone would have saved the man anyway. If it hadn't been Alec it would have been any one of the other people in the room. He raised his head decidedly. It was done. He opened his mouth as he tried to choose the right words to cut the tension in the room but hesitated when he noticed all the features that resembled his in William Herondale and felt himself to be a shadow. Insignificant. He swallowed.

Jace seemed to suddenly hold himself straighter in an attempt to hide how unsure he was of himself facing the William Herondale whose copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ he possessed. His brain could not process the fact that a man who he had presumed to be an ancestor of his stood before him. A man who belonged more than a century in the past.

"We are not going to hurt you and we did not bring you here," said Jace, politely.

A bemused expression crossed William's face as he watched Jace attempt a rare and unchartered territory to many a Herondale—diplomacy.

"Make no mistakes, I do not have the slightest impression that any of you are capable of hurting me," responded Will, a dangerous glint to his already stormy eyes. It was his posture that betrayed his words. Clary saw the way he favoured his left side to his right side which bled profusely through his vintage overcoat. His stance was a give-away, he stood as if facing an army single-handedly, his figure devoid of any earlier grace under the weight of responsibility and more than a fair measure of insanity, protecting the girl, Theresa Gray, and the unconscious boy, James Carstairs... unconscious?... or dead? Clary shuddered at the limbs which were bent at unnatural angles.

"Jeez, we save your lives and we're the bad guys? Who else thinks that's fucked up?" came Alec's voice. He was pleased to give everyone else some responsibility for the continuance of William Herondale's life by using collectives. As was to be expected, Tessa's face had reddened noticeably at the blasphemic language and Isabelle stared longingly at the natural blush that rose upon the porcelain skin of the girl.

Through all of this angst, Clary was absorbed in the sight of the figure on the floor. A crushing grief had settled upon her as she ignored the aggressive voices. It was almost poetic, that the boy on the ground shimmered and glinted liquid silver akin to the shards of scattered glass until he was just another broken piece which would never return to its glory. It was tragic. It was a mirage. It was a tragic mirage. And still no one had lifted a finger to help. That was what Clary thought of as strange until she assessed the situation and accepted that William was prioritizing defence and that Theresa was in a state of shock so preoccupying that she could not have been of much help. And Clary felt the girl's helplessness as if it were her own. Desperation shook her as she trembled with the need to do something to fix the boy. She had seen enough death, and the beauty of this one only made it all the more terrible and unacceptable.

She strode forward, crossing over the invisible boundaries of fear and anger that held the two groups apart, only to be stopped short by a blade hovering at the base of her neck.

"Stay away," growled Will, uncomfortable with this girl in tight-fitting men's clothes being at such proximity. Despite her height, she held herself in a manner that contrasted greatly with any woman he had known before. She did not look gentle and she did not look pleased with the weapon aimed at her. Will studied her as she waved away the golden haired boy who looked more confused by the knife than angered.

"I can't help him if you kill me," reasoned the girl, nodding almost imperceptibly at Jem. Will looked at her again and she stared back, her face perfectly composed. After what seemed like hours, the girl took in a ragged breath and her facade was lost. It was only for a second, but in that one breath Will saw a thousand battles won and lost, a guilt most profound, and an edge of panic and anguish engraved in her features. And then the breadth was taken and the mask reinstated. With a nod, Will stepped aside to offer her clear path to his parabatai with his seraph blade still unsheathed.

Clary knelt by James, frightened by the enormity of the promise she had just made. She may as well have claimed she could grow money on trees—it would have been less of a lie. She couldn't bring back the dead. And it was infinitely true that she couldn't. But luckily for her, James Carstairs was not dead. He was just on the brink of it.

She heard the shallow breaths of the boy, short wheezes interrupted by tortured moans and she swept silver strands of hair off of the boy's forehead delicately, his skin a blazing inferno, before trailing a hand down his cheek to wipe away the tears streaming down his face.

"Tessa?" rasped the boy's musical voice, ravaged by pain and raw emotion.

Will looked to Tess, who had hope written across her delicate features and he felt a pain greater than that from the physical wound bleeding him dry. The problem, he decided, was that she had so much faith. Even in this girl they knew nothing about. This girl who had just been stroking Jem so tenderly that Will felt Tessa would have gone green with jealousy. And yet there was none on Tessa's face. Just innocent and dangerous hope.

Clary had laid her hand upon Jem's forehead and closed her eyes when the image flickered into her consciousness, one of swirls and jagged edges hinting at both honour and sacrifice. Without opening her eyes she pulled out her steel, a movement which made William stiffen. Then lifted her head to meet Jace's eyes from across the room, whispering "Use an iratze on William, Jace. You're going to need his strength."

Jace opened his mouth to stop her but she just smiled weakly to absolve him of any guilt and to demand that he not deny her this small good deed. Though it pained him, he understood her desire to be good. To compensate for the exponential growth in evil. That was all she needed. Then (to Tessa's mortification) she unbuttoned Jem's overcoat and shirt to expose a chest chiselled as any other shadow hunter's and began drawing.

And once more a silence enveloped the congregation. This time it was one filled with anxious breaths as they all watched Clary's steel move with precision despite the wielder's growing fatigue. After three entire minutes of silence, Jace stepped toward Will and drew a quick iratze as if by following Clary's command he had lent her strength in a way he knew was impossible. But it didn't work, and by the end of the seventh and final minute Clary lay bleached and still, with no breaths to assure Jace of life, next to the silver boy with mended bones and a steady heartbeat who, despite the great sacrifice, hadn't regained consciousness…yet.

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**Don't worry, all Clary fans out there. Stick around, because I'm not psychotic enough to kill off Clary in the third chapter of a crossover….Or am I? Muehehehe.**

**And review, even if it's to tell me you hated it or that it's moving too slowly on the whole (I get the feeling it is, but then I really don't want to rush it and I want it to be real).**

**Thanks :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I. HAVE. NO. EXCUSE….oh wait…work. There we go.**

**Without further ado… The Chapter Read, Review, Follow, Favourite—and I will love you forever!**

**Disclaimer: blah blah blah Cassandra's a badass blah blah blah I own nothing blah blah blah I wish I could create some kind of alternate world like those created by Cassandra here and the Wizarding world in Harry Potter blah blah blah but I will never be cool enough.**

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Chapter 4: SHIT HAPPENS

So this was how Simon ended up towing his unconscious ex-girlfriend, who he still had feelings for, through the late New York streets under the watchful eyes of Isabelle Lightwood, surrounded by Shadowhunters of two different generations. And he loved the situation way less than he might have.

Of course, this didn't mean that Simon was the first choice by a longshot. No. Such an idea was preposterous! This was only because Jace was otherwise preoccupied. It was an odd predicament the group found themselves in, when they had two unconscious bodies to haul. Anyone would have been capable of carrying Clary, of course, but James was a different story. Though of slender build, he weighed more than her, no shock when considering his height and muscle weight, so required the attention of more than one newly-healed William. Therfore, Jace was called upon in a manner which was almost politically incorrect in this modern age as it negated the women and downworlders almost immediately. And Alec was of no help, being overly involved in a foreign type of brooding self-pity.

They all looked exhausted with the exception of Isabelle, who took a pride in glamour during trying times, as they trudged through the fluorescent lit night.

"Will we get no peace?" cried Theresa, as she eyed a metallic silver smart car on the curb accusingly, stiffening.

"Oh! What fresh hell is this?" growled William. He let James' weight fall on Jace and drew a seraph blade whilst striding toward the vehicle. After scanning the street for any threats he slashed the blade across its body repeatedly until Theresa drew him back, hauling his franticly shuddering body, to the rest of the group who were exchanging glances.

"Damnable automatons"

Everyone else held their tongue, a side effect of unconsciousness and general inexperience at controlling presumably psychotic strangers. Then the Shadowhunters continued on their path to the New York institute, Isabelle mulling over the situation and the word 'automaton' while eyeing the foreign group warily. And the shrill shriek of a car alarm followed them.

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"I have come to the conclusion that this is some kind of alternate universe, or perhaps we have been transported into the consciousness of someone in the midst of a very vividly imaginative infancy. It would certainly explain all of the…oddities," reasoned Will, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he planted himself on a couch in the Institute's library.

"Welcome to the twenty first century!" proclaimed Isabelle, gesturing comically, unaware of the fact that the other Shadowhunters quite literally belonged to another era.

_Thump_.

"Great. Third time's the charm, eh?" remarked Jace, eyeing Tessa's newly unconscious form on the floor, making no move to help her up. It seemed as if everyone would be incapacitated by the end of the hour.

"TWENTY FIRST CENT— ah—I BEG YOUR PARDON?" choked out Will, rushing to prop Tessa against the couch which held her fiancé.

Isabelle was astounded and her mind raced until finally it understood the impossible situation. She almost felt bad for breaking the news to the odd group, but she shrugged it off saying, "I just thought… The English must have a really backward fashion sense". As if to emphasize her point she gestured at Tessa's frilly gown.

"I used to think so too," cut in a smooth voice from the couch, as a silver boy pushed himself into sitting position to survey the scene.

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It took a lot of explaining. Some things were almost too personal to share whilst other matters felt almost mundane to Jace as he described away two centuries' worth of history to the parabatai seated in front of him. A part of him wondered whether this was a joke and a more solemn part pondered over whether this was some elaborate trap set up by Sebastian—but he spoke to them anyway, only lightly brushing on who his group were.

Not all the talking was done by him, however. James, or rather Jem, elaborated on their life in the nineteenth century. He seemed more pleasant than Will through the entire situation though he avoided questions regarding how he had fared in the past, asking Jace kindly to leave it a mystery, as he secretly had no desire to know how long it took for his lifeline, the devil, Yin Fen, to take away his life.

It was on this thin layer of trust that the groups grew to regard each other with sufficient amounts of respect, or in the Herondale's cases—sufficiently low levels of distaste and distrust. The major contributor was, perhaps, the one who hid the most. It was Jem with his unceasing gratitude for Clary's sacrifice, who carried a silent guilt for his endless weakness and the need to hide the burden whenever he glimpsed the redhead's form laid on the couch.

Tessa was awakened from her rather sudden 'slumber' so finally she, too, was filled in. Then, in the late hours of the night, when Clary finally stirred from her exhaustion she was met with the sight of three figures examining pizza wedges as a scientist would a test subject, with the trust of a dying boy she had temporarily saved and with an eerie sense of foreboding. And words rang through her head, as though she had heard them only a while ago—which she had, though she did not know—'Will we get no peace?'

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**So this was more a chapter to do with acclimating the past with the present so that the real stuff can begin. It is rather short and I do apologise for the maaaaaajor wait, though I will say that I DO get a lot of work doing the International Baccalaureate (six subjects, theory of knowledge, extended essay, creativity hours, action hours, service hours and extra-curricular activities. But I don't mean to complain). I love you guys, and I hope you love me despite my lack of punctuality and will review and tell me what you think. As always, suggestions and requests are always welcome. I will try to make the next chapter longer and be more prompt in my updating though I do not want to make empty promises.**

**Please read, review, fave and whatnot! I really do appreciate the sanity that accompanies seeing that my writing is being read. Thanks **

**Now I will reply reviews. I know I am awful at that too…but it's my first fanfic and I literally JUST figured out how (so technologically challenged that maybe I don't belong in the 21****st**** Century either, maybe I belong with Will Herondale, eh? Yeah, yeah… wishful thinking. How ironic).**


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